Tokyo Rain
by beepbep
Summary: AU Modern. Kaoru gets fired from her job, then caught in the rain, and in general is feeling a little sorry for her homeless orphan self. When she latches onto a red haired stranger to escape a persistent suitor at one of Sano's underground fights, Kaoru has no idea how much worse her situation can get - but she soon will. His past is catching up to him, and now her as well.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I apologize for the formatting! I found that .docx wouldn't let me have italics (even when I tried adding them after upload), but it let me indent. I did some research and tried .odt and it let me have italics, but now my indents refuse to stay! I decided I'd try to add strategic spaces, but I hope the dialogue isn't too rough on the eyes. I'm open to advice on fixing this, if anyone's inclined!  
This story is AU Modern. I'm writing as a hobby, but will take any constructive criticism to heart. It's been awhile since I had to do much writing (currently in a science-y career) and I am feeling distinctly rusty.

Disclaimer: Obviously, there's no profit being made from this, and I did not create/do not own any of the characters from Rurouni Kenshin.

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It was raining in Tokyo, water pouring down in merciless torrents that somehow seemed to come from every direction at once. It was a deluge, and Kamiya Kaoru was caught in the middle of it. Her jeans were heavy with dampness, soaked through all the way up to the ripped knees. She was a little concerned that the extra weight might leave her with awkwardly proportioned cut-offs, the knees were so badly torn. Her cheap umbrella was long gone, turned inside-out and twisted beyond saving by the strong winds. _Oh well,_ she sighed internally, _at least I got it free from the Akabeko's lost-and-found box.  
_  
Currently, Kaoru was hiding from the rain in a dirty phone booth downtown. Her long black ponytail was sodden and clinging to the back of her tattered army-surplus jacket. The wet green fabric was rough against her skin, and her favourite black t-shirt was rapidly absorbing its excess water. She was pretty sure today was one of the worst days of her life. _That's pretty rich coming from a homeless, JOBLESS orphan like yourself…_ her inner voice chided.

Kaoru had been fired that afternoon from a job she had only managed to keep for three weeks. She was working as a waitress at a dingy 24 hour diner and had finally snapped when yet another day-drunk college boy had attempted to cop a feel. He had a broken finger and a split lip, Kaoru had "ten goddamn minutes, I TOLD you this was your last chance!" to clear out her locker and get out of the owner's sight. Yet again, her volatile temper was costing her a steady paycheque. Just like that job as a hostess at an upscale restaurant, where she had poured a glass of pinot noir all over the adulterous creep who tried to get her number while his wife was in the washroom. How was she supposed to know he was the head chef's brother?

Groaning, Kaoru pulled her wallet from the inside pocket of her jacket and checked the contents. It was disheartening, and she immediately regretted it. The rain showed no sign of letting up and she knew she'd be better off crashing at Sano's and sneaking a bath than shivering in a phone booth hoping the weather might change. Kaoru tucked her ponytail inside her jacket and fumbled the buttons closed along the front. She then emerged into the rain and headed towards Sano's row-house in one of the worse areas in downtown Tokyo. It was early enough that he was probably still home nursing a hangover before his usual routine of nighttime drinking and gambling.

Twenty minutes later Kaoru was soaked through and pounding her fist against Sano's locked front door. Someone, probably Sano himself, had spray painted the sign for evil on the chipped white paint of the door. Hugging herself pathetically, Kaoru cursed and shivered on the porch. Sano's house was narrow and decrepit, all barred windows, crooked shutters and dirty siding that desperately needed the attention of a pressure-washer. The porch was creaky and gave the unnerving impression that each time one stepped on it, it came that much closer to collapsing entirely. The door swung inwards abruptly and Sano glared out at her, wearing only a pair of faded blue sweatpants.

"The HELL, Kaoru, you know I was out late last night! Why are you banging on my door at this ungodly hour? Aren't you supposed to be at the Greasy Spoon pouring coffee for hipsters?" Kaoru swept past him like she owned the place, matching him glare for glare  
"Please, Sanosuke, it's after 1:00. And it's the Silver Spoon." Sano closed the door and followed her into the kitchen where she immediately began making a pot of coffee.  
"Greasy, silver, whatever. You did have a shift today, didn't you?" Kaoru avoided answering by taking off her jacket and hanging it over a mismatched dining chair. She winced as she pulled the tie from her wet hair and then set about finger-combing it into submission. Sano continued to glare at her and she finally gave in. Sitting down heavily, Kaoru schooled her face and gave him the full force of her big, sad blue eyes.  
"Yes, okay, I did work today. Some creep decided to grab my ass, and he was the third one in two days, so I kinda lost my cool and got fired again." Sano raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly.  
"Y'know Missy, I have rubbed elbows with gang members, street fighters, drug dealers and addicts… None of those bastards has a temper to match yours."

Kaoru flashed him a sweet smile, resting her chin in her palm. Sano grinned back and poured them each a mug of coffee, setting out cream and sugar for Kaoru and sipping his own plain and black. She set about fixing her coffee, shoulders noticeably relaxed. _That's the nice thing about Sano. He always understands.  
_"I still have my teaching position at Maekawa's dojo, at least. I'll just have to find another job that doesn't involve customer service, or even interacting with people at all." Sano nodded ambiguously, attention drifting to his battered cell phone. They spent several minutes sipping coffee in comfortable silence while Sano fiddled with his phone.  
"Since you're free tonight, wanna come cheer for me? I just got a text from Katsu, there's a fight happening in the east end." Kaoru shrugged, draining the last of her coffee.  
"Might as well. I'm gonna go take a bath." Sano barely acknowledged her, texting furiously to drum up as many bets on himself as possible for the imminent fight. Kaoru mussed his hair playfully and headed upstairs, laughing at his distracted growl.

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_Nothing like a long, hot bath to make a girl feel better about being a homeless orphan,_ Kaoru mused, standing in front of Sano's bathroom mirror. Her damp hair hung down her back almost to her waist, cut with some layers to alleviate the weight of it on her scalp. Her bangs were asymmetrical, not her usual look but an interesting choice by the student who had cut her hair for free at a hairdressing school. She was a little too thin from lack of regular meals, but muscular from daily practice of kendo. A black and navy tattoo of a katana was placed between her shoulder blades, hilt at the top, roughly six inches long. Along the delicate blade was kanji that read "The sword that protects". Kaoru smiled at her reflection, then frowned menacingly, then stuck her tongue out.

Despite being the ultimate bachelor, Sano's apartment was surprisingly clean. This was likely because Sano was minimalistic in his possessions: he owned only the barest of furnishings, and wasn't exactly sentimental enough for knick knacks and mementos. He did, however, own several hair products specifically designed to maintain his roosterish style. Kaoru's damp clothes were currently hanging over the shower curtain bar, and she pawed through her large duffel bag deciding what to wear to the fight. She didn't want to stand out or look too feminine. She ended up picking out a pair gray cargo pants and a thin burgundy shirt with long sleeves and a hood. Kaoru thumped back downstairs and tossed her duffel into the laundry room, shutting the door behind it. Sano was in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of whisky.

"Feelin' lucky tonight, Missy. You gonna bet on me?" Sano asked, grinning rakishly. Kaoru rolled her eyes and nodded.  
"Obviously. I'm poor, not stupid. I'd bet my last dollar on you, Zanza." Sano preened and offered Kaoru the bottle of whisky. She shook her head, wincing."You want to see me fight tonight, too? You know how I get when I drink whisky." Sano shrugged and downed his glass just in time for a car to honk outside.  
"That's Katsu. Let's roll!"

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The fight was in an old warehouse near the harbour. Katsu parked a few blocks away in a better lit, more inhabited neighbourhood. "For the safety of my car," he joked. Kaoru was wearing her jacket again, now only slightly damp, and a pair of black ass-kicking boots that laced up several inches above the ankle. They made their way down dark side-streets past sketchy bars and industrial buildings until they reached the entrance to the warehouse. As always, there were nefarious people outside smoking and passing around a flask. A huge man with many tattoos (several of which would have made Kaoru blush, if she'd allowed herself to look) stood by the door, but immediately waved them inside when he saw Sano.

Inside was dimly lit and crowded, the fights had already begun. They were mostly informal; anyone could decide they wanted to challenge a winner. However, the organizers liked to drum up excitement in advance, and so they would invite the most popular fighters to compete and spread the word about who would be there. Sano (or Zanza as he was known in those circles) was a crowd favourite. He was well liked by the men because of his good humour, strength, and willingness to lose at poker. He was adored by the women for his handsome face, muscular physique and willingness to flirt. That, and everyone liked a winner. Sano was definitely good at that part.

Kaoru left Sano to his fans and sought out the bookie, placing her own meager bet on Zanza. She couldn't spare much, but hated to pass up a good investment. There was another tattooed giant manning a keg in the corner and Kaoru bought herself a beer, sipping daintily from a solo cup while she surveyed the crowd. Many of the faces were familiar, regular fighters and gamblers and groupies. A ring was set up in roughly the middle of the building, but her view of the actual fight was obstructed by the crowd. _Being short sucks,_ Kaoru thought without any true anger. She was too used to it by then.

Bored with people watching, Kaoru pushed her way through the crowd towards the top of Sano's head. His spiky brown hair and red headband were useful for one thing, at least. She was almost there when someone stepped deliberately in front of her. He was relatively tall, with short black hair and a wide, predatory smile.

"Hey, aren't you Hikari?"  
"Nope, sorry." She moved to step around him, but he stepped with her.  
"We've met though, I'm sure of it. I'm Nishida Satomi."  
"That's nice. I need to go meet my friend though-" Kaoru looked on with disappointment as Sano was ushered into the ring, ready to fight a beefy guy probably twice as wide as he was. _So much for that escape plan_.  
"I thought we could be friends," Satomi said, becoming sleazier by the second. Kaoru rolled her eyes and scowled at him.  
"Do you always go to underground fights looking for new friends? That doesn't sound too smart to me." Satomi laughed like she had made a hilarious joke and put his hand on her shoulder. Kaoru's eye twitched and she clenched her jaw slightly. _What a slimeball!_ She looked around desperately for Katsu, but he was nowhere in sight. It wasn't that she couldn't handle a creep like Satomi, but Kaoru's fist was still sore from punching that inebriated college boy in the afternoon. She wasn't much of a hand-to-hand fighter, preferring to use her bokken.

"So, mysterious girl who hasn't told me her name, what brings you here tonight? Are you one of those chicks that gets all hot and bothered watching the fights?" _All right, forget Katsu, I'll take any escape route now. Preferably without damage to my fists._ Kaoru looked towards the exit and saw a man slip inside whose presence seemed to drop the temperature by several degrees. He was small, only several inches taller than her, and had long red-brown hair in a loose ponytail hanging over his shoulder. He was handsome in a delicate sort of way, with fine features and light eyes. Maybe blue? He turned in her direction and she saw a vicious looking scar on his left cheek. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black jacket, as though he also wanted to blend into the background. Despite his passive expression, something about him was setting off her fight-or-flight response system. Kaoru shrugged off Satomi's hand, chugged the last of her beer, and made a beeline for the newcomer. _If he frightens me, maybe he'll be good enough to put off Satomi, too.  
_

"There you are!" Kaoru purred as she sidled close to him, watching his eyes (they were a beautiful violet-blue, up close) widen with confusion. _Beats aggression, at least._ Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Satomi following her, frowning slightly. _How is he so persistent?!_ Before she could think twice about it, Kaoru slipped her arms loosely around the redhead's neck and pressed her lips against his. He froze in shock and she pressed her body a little closer, closing her eyes and trying to look as convincingly in love as possible. Tilting her head to the right, she opened her mouth and traced her tongue gently against the peak of his upper lip. Finally he responded, his own mouth curving open to allow her access.

Kaoru was flooded with relief first, then a short moment of anxiety. What if he turned out to be creepier than Satomi? But the anxiety didn't last long, as she found herself getting lost in the kiss. He was hesitant at first, but her growing enthusiasm seemed to encourage his own. His hands gripped her waist underneath her jacket as their tongues collided, and somehow her hands ended up tangled in the base of his ponytail. Kaoru's head swam, and her entire body seemed to be magnetically attracted to his. It was a passionate and extremely compatible kiss, the best 'first kiss' she'd ever experienced. When she eventually drew back, Kaoru panted gently against his scarred cheek and pressed one last small kiss against the corner of his mouth. She could faintly hear his laboured breath and couldn't keep a satisfied smirk off of her face.

Risking another glance behind her, Kaoru saw that her sleazy suitor had vanished back into the crowd. The redhead cleared his throat quietly.  
"Uh, miss?" His voice was low and melodic, and she turned back to him sheepishly. _How the hell do I explain myself, now?_ Suddenly she heard Katsu's voice booming over a loudspeaker, announcing Zanza the winner of this round. Kaoru gasped and spun around, screaming her support along with most of the crowd.  
"YES! Zanza is the BEST!" she shrieked, jumping up and down. She grinned impishly at the redheaded man, taking a few backwards steps away from him. He looked thoroughly confused and she could no longer sense the same danger that had shrouded him when he first walked through the door.  
"Thanks for the kiss," Kaoru said softly, and then pushed her way through the crowd towards Sano. _To think that Misao says I don't have any feminine wiles! I am the wiliest woman in this whole damn derelict warehouse!_ She gloated.

Sano saw her approaching and offered her a bloody fist bump. She accepted, and then discreetly wiped her knuckles against his hip.  
"All right Missy! Let's collect your winnings and blow this Popsicle stand. There's a dive bar nearby that's calling my name, and I'll buy you whatever girly drink your heart desires."  
"What about Katsu?"  
"He'll catch up with us later, he's gotta stick around and help out awhile."  
"Okay," Kaoru shrugged, and five minutes later a new fight was raging and they were out the door. Her surprise-kiss victim was nowhere to be seen and Kaoru told herself it was lucky, despite the faint feeling of disappointment in her stomach. After a kiss like that, who could really live up to expectations? Sano yammered on about the fight and his 'epic win', and Kaoru allowed herself to be distracted by his exuberance. _I need to worry about having a job and maybe even my own apartment before I start worrying about men, anyway._

At the dive bar Sano bought Kaoru a gin and gingerale. She bought herself another when it was gone, and after that the night got a little fuzzy around the edges. Katsu eventually showed up to drive them back to the row house, and Kaoru fell asleep in her clothes on top of the sleeping bag in the laundry room. She dreamt about kissing a handsome redhead with a cross shaped scar on his left cheek and woke up to that same feeling of disappointment in her stomach, accompanied by a riotous pounding in her head.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thank you very much for your kind comments and reviews! I realized belatedly that an entire paragraph was missing from Chapter one, so I apparently somehow deleted it before uploading. However, it wasn't crazy important, just some description when Kaoru was at Sano's place. I thought I'd be a lot quicker with this chapter, but it ended up taking me a long time. I had some really important (career and success determining) exams in late March, so I couldn't focus on writing when I knew I was technically procrastinating instead of studying. I will endeavor to be quicker with chapter 3.

So far I am giving a peek into the lives of Kaoru and Kenshin, next I hope to get into some actual plot development.

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Kenshin hadn't been to Tokyo in almost three years. Naturally, the city greeted him with gray skies and heavy, suffocating rain. He was essentially trapped in his motel room, and being trapped did not suit him well at all. Sighing softly, Kenshin sat down on the double bed and surveyed the room. It was smallish, with a CRT television sitting on top of a rickety dresser facing the end of the bed. There was a cramped bathroom, a closet, and not much else. He ran his hands idly over the rough blanket covering the bed, picking at a loose thread.

_I might as well get cleaned up_, he mused. He checked the locks on the door and single window; both were secure. The curtains were patterned with colours and shapes reminiscent of the eighties, and he made a face at them as he tugged them closed. Next he stripped off his travel-worn clothes and turned towards the bathroom, taking a few steps towards it before pausing. _I don't sense anything dangerous but… I should still make sure._ Kenshin padded softly back to the door and tested the lock again, a small flood of relief washing through him to find he was right, it was locked the whole time.

He made his way into the bathroom and had the longest, hottest shower possible before the hot water began to dwindle. Afterwards he dried himself quickly, racing against time to get out of the washroom before the foggy condensation cleared from the mirror. Kenshin didn't particularly care for his reflection. Back in the main room, he spent a few minutes unpacking his enormous backpack onto the bed and organizing the laundry into a mesh bag. _I'll have to save laundry for a dryer day. I have time._ He leaned his sheathed sakabatou against the nightstand within easy reach of the bed.

It was only three o'clock in the afternoon, hours before he had planned to meet Aoshi. Kenshin settled himself against the pillows on his lumpy bed and pulled a battered copy of _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep_ from his bag, opening it to a random page. He only had a few books; they took up valuable space in his backpack. As such, the few he had were frequently re-read and bent into permanent curves from rough handling. Kenshin liked the escapism of reading, and would try to swap out his books every few months at a used book store. He kept a list in his head, and if he ever settled down in one place, he'd be filling up a bookcase with all the favourites he'd been forced to leave behind over the years.

Soon the familiar sentences lulled him to sleep, and when he woke several hours later the rain had finally ceased. Kenshin arranged his hair into a neat tail, the motion so practiced that a mirror was unnecessary. He dressed in plain, dark clothing, tucked his sword into his pack with the hilt sticking out the top, and left the room. He locked the door and tested the handle automatically, never completely trusting it to remain locked after the key was back in his pocket. His backpack was lighter now that he'd left most of his clothing in the motel room, and he enjoyed the novel feeling of lightness as he wandered down the street in search of dinner.

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Kenshin's cell phone was an old and battered flip phone. He'd had the same one for years and refused to replace it with something better, arguing that he didn't really need a touch screen, or camera, or even a slide-out keyboard. He could text (albeit very slowly) and call people, and that was enough for him. He bought minutes when he could spare the money, and generally kept the phone turned off unless he needed to contact someone urgently. The address book was empty in case the phone was ever lost or taken. He deleted his texts and call history every time he used it, committing any important details to memory. He knew from memory that he was to meet Aoshi by the harbour that night.

He arrived at quarter to midnight, wandering slowly between dark buildings along the water. Aoshi was never there waiting for their meetings, he preferred to stay hidden until Kenshin made himself visible. Kenshin found it annoying, but Aoshi's inability to separate their friendship from his spy habits was forgivable. After all, Kenshin didn't have many friends. He reached the water and gazed out at the slow dark waves, moonlight glimmering across the surface. It was peaceful here, except… _What is that sound?_

Kenshin wished his sword was at his hip instead of his back, but it didn't worry him very much. He knew his own speed, and he could draw it almost as quickly from that location. It just felt a little wrong, somehow. _Years of habit, _he told himself. _Years and years of bloody debt._ He halted that thought process and forced himself to focus on the faint sounds he was hearing. He flitted silently into the shadow of the closest building and crept along its length, straining to hear what had caught his attention. He heard voices, definitely, but something else too. He moved along the edge of the harbour, following the growing noise from building to building.

Finally he found the source of his curiosity. From his vantage point hidden behind a neighbouring building he could see a group of men standing in the glow of a single bulb, smoking and laughing. They seemed to favour leather jackets and tattoos, and they were all built like bouncers. Behind their laughter, he could hear faint shouts from inside the warehouse they were lingering beside. It was the only building in the area with any lights turned on. Kenshin could feel the violence emanating from within, and he spent a good minute breathing slowly and making sure his ki was unreadable. None of these men were aware of him, but there seemed to be many people inside and he couldn't risk an obvious display of his power.

A few more men wandered up to the warehouse with a skinny, bleached-blond woman trailing beside them.  
"You're just in time, the best fights are starting soon," he overheard one of them exclaiming. Understanding dawned on him. _Some sort of illegal fighting ring? That explains the ki. _Kenshin glanced at his watch; it was almost midnight. Aoshi should be meeting him shortly, and he probably wouldn't want it to be anywhere near these people. It took him a few seconds to fully realize what that probably meant. Kenshin pulled out his phone then and turned it on. Sure enough, he had missed a text from Aoshi. "Location is compromised. New address will be sent tomorrow. Be wary."

Kenshin rolled his eyes and deleted the message before turning his phone off. He was about to disappear back into the shadows when he felt a strange presence. A new fighting ki approached, but this one was nothing like the rough and untrained ones bumbling around inside the warehouse. The men fighting inside were street fighters, dangerous in their own right but not disciplined like he was. Their ki was an aura of menace; Kenshin's was a tool that could almost paralyze an unsuspecting person when he chose to unleash it. One of his main advantages in the beginning of a confrontation was how he was consistently underestimated. Once his abilities became apparent, doubt would often flourish into outright panic when he blasted an opponent with his fighting ki. He used to find it immensely satisfying, but that feeling had faded years before.

The person he sensed now was obviously trained. He felt the potential for violence hidden beneath layers of calm control and projected authority. They were asserting themself to someone, or possibly everyone. In an environment like this, it wasn't surprising. However, despite the buried violence, Kenshin felt something very pure in this person's ki. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was certain they had never taken a life. There was a rightness to it that went beyond the misplaced confidence many swordsmen had in the justice of their own causes. There was a serenity there that zealots lacked; a lightness that made Kenshin starkly aware of the darkness he perceived around himself.

He peeked around the corner, but only a few men remained outside the building. The spirit was harder to pick out, now, muffled by the crowd inside. Realistically, Kenshin should be getting himself far away from this warehouse. Underground fights were never his scene, but there was always the risk of recognition. He watched a straggler in a baggy coat approach and saw for the first time that one of the lingering men was acting as security. The newcomer was roughly patted down and exchanged a few insults with the tattooed bouncer before going inside. Kenshin slipped his backpack from his shoulder and moved further back into the shadows.

He knew now, having stayed this long, that he would be going inside. He just wanted a glimpse of this person, a chance to understand the strangeness of their ki. However, it was clear that his sakabatou could not go with him. There was a dumpster nearby and he hid his backpack between its back and the wall. It would be safe until he returned. Kenshin emerged from the shadows, making sure to scuff his shoes against the ground slightly and alert the men of his presence. They turned towards him and he could read in their body language the automatic dismissal of himself as a threat. However, he was still a stranger entering a place where many people would already be familiar faces. This automatically merited at least a little suspicion.

"Haven't seen you around," the man acting as security stated, his gaze assessing. Kenshin shrugged, turning his head slightly to expose his scars to the light shining above the door.

"I thought I might place a few bets," he replied coolly. There was a heavy pause before the man shrugged back and gestured Kenshin through the door. He chose not to pat him down, either finding him too little of a risk or knowing on some level that this was not a person to be patted down so casually. Kenshin was using his own ki as a sort of warning, and even the untrained usually had the good sense to trust their gut and not attempt to mess with him.

Inside was crowded and noisy, and Kenshin paused beside the door to get his bearings. Almost everyone was focused on the current fight, their bodies forming a makeshift ring around the combatants. He swept his eyes across the edge of the crowd and was surprised at how easily he tracked down the owner of the mystery-ki: she was staring straight at him. He looked away, pretending not to notice. _She can't be more than twenty years old. She definitely doesn't look like she belongs here._

Kenshin wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen. There was no way he'd be making conversation with anyone present, even if they did have an intriguing ki presence. For some reason, he'd allowed himself to believe that seeing her would satisfy his curiosity, or answer some unknown question buried in his subconscious. However, seeing that this young woman was the source of his curiosity only raised more questions. He also hadn't expected her to down her drink and walk over to him with such a decisive gait.

Kenshin felt his face slip out of its impassive mask, confusion winning out. Up close she looked even younger than before, short with crooked bangs and large, gray-blue eyes. She was swimming in a green canvas jacket and loose cargo pants, which only served to make her look smaller. Her black hair was tied up into a messy bun with wisps of escaped hair caressing the sides of her face and neck. She looked agitated, but offered him a rueful smile.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, more than a little flirtatious. Alarm bells were sounding in Kenshin's head, but his feet were frozen to the ground. _Why do I put myself in these situations? A confrontation is the last thing I need right now. _He didn't fail to see the calculation behind her façade, or the man who was following her with a predatory grin slowly fading from his face. Kenshin knew he was about to be used, but he didn't expect the young woman to step closer and kiss him. His body stiffened as she draped her arms lightly over his shoulders and pressed her lips gently against his mouth. She was invading his space in the most tentative way, obviously expecting to be pushed back immediately.

_The last thing I need is to draw any more attention. If I push her off now, there will certainly be a problem with the creep who followed her. She's obviously pretending I'm her boyfriend, so she might cause a scene and drag me into it… The best course of action is to play along for a few minutes, hope the guy leaves, and get the hell out of here._

Emboldened by his stillness, the girl pressed herself closer to him and he felt the tip of her tongue glide along the edge of his upper lip. Kenshin grabbed her waist reflexively, a quick stab of desire tearing through him. He opened his mouth and let her in, easing into the rhythm of kissing another person for the first time in years. Her hands tangled into the top of his ponytail, creating a pleasurable tugging sensation that was slowly eroding his sense of control. She tasted like beer, but nothing in her demeanor suggested she was drunk. _Except that she picked this one to kiss_, Kenshin thought in his usual self-effacing manner. _It's my first night in Tokyo and look what she's got me into._

When they separated, he felt her breath heavy against his cheek. She pressed a tiny, ironically chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before stepping away from him. She glanced behind herself and Kenshin saw that the man who followed her had wisely disappeared back into the crowd.

"Uh, Miss?" Kenshin stammered, uncertain what he wanted to say, but knowing he wanted to say _something_ to her after she kissed him like that. She was smiling guiltily and about to respond when a voice boomed out over the crowd.

"And the winner of this round is Zanza, the unbeatable embodiment of evil! Maybe now you can pay me back that money you owe me, eh Zanza?" The young woman's face lit up and she began jumping up and down, hands balled into excited fists.

"YES! Zanza is the BEST!" she shrieked, laughing like a delighted child. Kenshin was taken aback; somehow he hadn't expected her to be so invested in the evening's shady activities. She didn't seem like the type, but maybe it was her first time there? She met his eyes and shrugged slightly, backing away from him with that same smile on her face. _Like she's getting away with something,_ he thought.

"Thanks for the kiss," she said, just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. Then she turned and disappeared into the throng of people, leaving Kenshin to stare dumbly after her. He shook his head and left, knowing that no good could come of staying any longer. _I'll be lucky if she's the only one who took notice of me. And after that performance, she obviously has no idea who I am._

He retrieved his backpack and walked towards a busier street where he was able to hail a taxi. The driver tried making small talk, but Kenshin's minimal non-answers discouraged him and he quickly gave up. The motel was mostly dark when Kenshin arrived, with very few cars parked outside. He unlocked his door and let himself in, flicking on the lights and scanning the room quickly. Everything looked the same, and he sensed no intruders lurking. He pulled his sheathed sword out of his backpack and locked the door behind him, testing the handle twice before he padded silently across the room to check the closet and bathroom. Both were dark and empty.

Kenshin sighed, leaning his sakabatou against the nightstand. Entering the bathroom, he let his eyes dart up to his reflection. His hair was dishevelled from the stranger's hands, and he shivered at the memory of her fingertips against his scalp. His face was smooth and unlined, despite his 28 years. During the height of his career as Battousai, there were ridiculous whispers that he was immortal, and that was why nobody could kill him. That was why he was unbeatable. Kenshin's fingers traced the scars on his face, reminding himself that those were just lies. Lies most likely spread by his own comrades, to create fear and turn him into legend.

His eyes were a pale blue, hinting at lilac around the edge of his iris. There was a starburst of amber-brown around his pupils, which became more obvious when they were constricted. He had often been told that the colour seemed to shift in his mood, from mostly lilac-blue to mostly bright amber. Kenshin breathed deeply, recognizing the agitation in his own eyes, despite the smooth serenity of his features. He was out of his comfort zone in more ways than one, and he could feel the effects of stress creeping up on him now that he was alone.

Kenshin retrieved his battered old toiletry bag from his backpack and began his nightly routine of washing up. He brushed his teeth first, then splashed his face with cool water and washed his hands. He scrubbed carefully between his fingers, under his nails, around his wrists and halfway up his forearms. There were probably surgeons at the hospital who were less careful when scrubbing in for the operating room. Once his hands were faintly pink from scrubbing in hot water, and forced himself to stop. On one of his worse days, Kenshin could spend half an hour washing his hands. Tonight he only spent ten minutes.

In the main room he checked the lock on the door and window before he flipped the light switch and stripped down to his boxers. He sat on the bed, leaning against the pillows and planning his day. _Laundry, stock up on supplies, meet up with Aoshi at some point. Look for a cheap apartment, maybe. Check out a used book store. _

Still feeling the agitated flutter of his heart in his chest, Kenshin leaned over and grabbed his sakabatou. Just gripping the sheath and hilt was soothing, and he felt his heartbeat returning to a normal pace. He felt relief and comfort when he held his sword, but also disgust at his reliance on it.

"Is this really the infamous Battousai?" he asked himself sarcastically. Fingers tracing the familiar grooves and nicks in his wooden sheath, he scowled at nothing in the dark. _Is this what I have become?_


	3. Chapter 3

Author's notes at the end of this chapter!

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The alarm on her watch had never sounded as loud as it did the morning after the fight, when Kaoru awoke with possibly the worst hangover she had ever experienced. She fumbled through her overflowing duffle for a minute before realizing the watch was still on her wrist. Her head pounded as she lay down again, and nausea stirred in the pit of her stomach. The alarm had been set when she still had a job to worry about. Now, it was only an abrupt disturbance of sweet, hangover-curing sleep that she desperately needed.

Kaoru threw her arm over her eyes, hissing quietly at the cheerful sunlight streaming through Sano's rickety venetian blinds. She could hear him snoring in the kitchen where he had passed out the night before while trying to goad her into shots of Jamieson at four in the morning. The sound of his snores seemed to echo off the walls, and Kaoru knew instinctively that she wouldn't be getting any more sleep. Her watch read 9:04, which meant she'd slept for a maximum of four and a half hours. _I really need a more responsible, respectable friend to crash with_.

Sitting up slowly, Kaoru fought back the wave of nausea that accompanied her movement. She glared balefully at the patch of sunlight on the wall beside her. The laundry room was roughly four feet wide and seven feet long, with only a large sink occupying one corner. She thought of it as her room, and even had a few photographs pinned above the sink. One of herself sitting on Sano's shoulders, laughing with her hands fisted in his hair. Another of herself and Misao, arms around each other's shoulders at the beach. There was a wedding photo of her parents, both dressed in traditional kimonos and looking entirely too serious.

She hadn't been able to hold onto much when the dojo was sold, but the few boxes she kept were in Sano's attic. He had been a true friend to her, before and after her father's death. She'd been sixteen when he was killed in a hit-and-run, and the dojo hadn't been doing well for a few years before then. The only option available had been to sell the property to pay off her family's debt, and then there was the cost of his funeral and burial next to her mother. Her second cousin Mako from Kyoto had offered her a room in his home, but he was a virtual stranger, and Kaoru had refused as graciously as possible. She made up a lie about a best friend in college with a big apartment, a sweet girl from a good family who would help her get on her feet. It was a weak story, but good enough for a second cousin who only made an offer out of obligation.

Kaoru had spent a lot of the first year staying at Maekawa's dojo. However, it was cramped already with his large family, and she found herself staying at Sano's more and more often. Many of her high school friends had drifted away after her father's death, and now the only ones she really had were Sano and Misao. She had met Misao only a year ago, during her first year studying history at the University of Tokyo. Kaoru was working as a barista at the time, and Misao loved coffee. The petite girl would sneak Kaoru into her tiny room on campus for a sleep over whenever she needed a break from Sano and his bachelor lifestyle. It was over two years since she her father died, and looking at his photo didn't hurt anymore.

Kaoru made her way unsteadily into the kitchen, stepping around Sano's prone form in the middle of the floor. She filled up the coffee maker and turned it on before tracking down a bottle of Advil in a kitchen drawer. She downed two tablets with a glass of water and three saltines. _Mmm, breakfast. _

Going upstairs to the bathroom felt akin to climbing a mountain, but she made it and relieved her painfully full bladder before daring to look in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, her lips chapped, and her hair was still half-way contained in the bun she'd put it in the night before. She washed her face and brushed her teeth on auto pilot before she even attempted to deal with the rats nest taking over her head. Kaoru picked the bobby pins out one by one before easing out her hair tie and brushing her hair gently. It was wavy from being coiled up and she left it loose, shooting some finger guns at her reflection. _I'm so hung over I think I might be coming out the other side, _she thought as the stomped back downstairs.

Sano was sitting at the kitchen table with a full cup of coffee, staring intently into its depths. He raised his eyes slowly to peer at her, and Kaoru knew immediately that he was still drunk. He half-smiled and returned his gaze downward to his cup.

"How are you feeling this morning, Zanza?" Kaoru asked, filling her own mug and stirring in the customary cream and sugar.

"I'm in love," he replied, sounding unbelievably sober. Kaoru almost dropped the sugar dish. Taking a deep breath, she returned the cream to the fridge and sat down across from him with her steaming coffee in hand.

"You're WHAT now?"

"She was perfect, Missy… legs went on for days…"

"Sano. When you say love, do you mean lust? Because I don't think freakishly long legs are exactly the best indicator of a soul mate."

"Ha ha," he said dryly. "You don't remember her, do you, Kaoru? She was _gorgeous_, and we flirted all night, and she had a witty reply to everything I said…" Sano trailed off thoughtfully before taking a long sip of his coffee. Kaoru frowned. _Was I drunk enough to forget an entire person? A woman who flirted with Sano so much that he actually thinks he loves her?_

"I'm surprised YOU remember her, with the amount you drank last night. Actually, it was this morning, technically. You're still drunk, aren't you?" she accused. Sano grinned a little and shrugged.

"So what? You know me, Missy. I can hold my liquor. I remember her, and she is goddamn PERFECT. I gave her my phone number, and when she calls…" he trailed off again, gazing out the window. Kaoru sighed. There would be no reasoning with him until he sobered up, so she focused on drinking her coffee instead. She even made them a breakfast of burnt toast and apple slices, which Sano was too out of it to complain about.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kenshin met Aoshi in a coffee shop downtown. He didn't quite understand how their meeting place could go from a dark, isolated harbour at midnight to a bright, cheery coffee shop at noon, but he didn't question it. Aoshi always had a reason, and this one didn't really interest Kenshin. He was sipping his tea patiently when Aoshi joined him with an espresso. He was an intimidating man with black hair and cold blue eyes. Sitting across from Kenshin with his tiny espresso cup, he looked almost comically large and serious.

"Himura."

"Shinomori," he replied, raising an eyebrow. They sipped their drinks quietly for a minute before Kenshin broke the silence.

"What brings you to Tokyo? I hear it's been busy at the Aoi-ya." Aoshi nodded once in acknowledgment.

"Yes, it has. I'm here because of Misao. She's studying at the University."

"Ah," Kenshin smiled, "of course. How is Misao-chan doing?"

"Well enough, so far, but she refuses to stay out of trouble. She is continuing her work here in Tokyo, when she's supposed to be devoting herself to her studies. I am visiting to assess the seriousness of the situation. Some of her messages have been… concerning."

The two men shared almost identical frowns. Kenshin hadn't seen Misao since she was fourteen, and couldn't help thinking of her as a child that needed looking after. He was certain Aoshi felt the same protectiveness to a much higher degree.

"And you, Himura? What brings you to Tokyo?" Aoshi questioned. Kenshin turned on his most roguish smile.

"I guess my feet just brought me here. I'm getting a little tired of all the travel, honestly, and I sort of missed Tokyo. I might stick around for a while if I can. I was even thinking about finding an apartment."

It was Aoshi's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That's a lot of commitment for you, Himura. You haven't had a place since Kyoto, correct?" Kenshin nodded slightly, trying not to reflect on the circumstances of his last home.

"Well, I have some money saved, and nobody to return to. Why not stay here awhile? Maybe I could even catch up with Misao sometime?" Kenshin watched Aoshi's face closely when he made the suggestion, and his friend remained frustratingly impassive.

"That's a possibility. She's very busy with university, and I can pass along the invitation. But Himura…" Kenshin wilted. _There it is, the "but"._ "I have worked very hard to keep Misao out of trouble, and somehow she continues to attract it. I can't let any criminals get wind of her being seen with you. I can't let her put herself at risk."

Kenshin nodded, bangs covering his eyes. _You are a risk to everyone you get close to. You are not worth the danger you inflict. _"I understand completely. I would never wish to bring harm to Misao-chan."

The conversation turned to less awkward topics then, and Kenshin forced himself to be cheerful. Aoshi informed him that he would be in Tokyo for at least two weeks, and they planned to meet again in a few days. Aoshi left first and Kenshin remained, drinking his cold tea and staring blankly out the window.

Xxxxxxxxx

Despite Kaoru's lack of a mobile phone, Misao was always able to track her down. Usually she would call Sano and chat his ear off until he found Kaoru _for_ her, desperate to pass off his phone. This was how Kaoru ended up sprawled on Misao's bed that evening and listening to her obsess over her childhood crush who was visiting from Kyoto.

"He came all this way to see me! I wish I knew that it meant something, but probably he's just checking up on me for Okina. But what if it DOES mean something? He's all, 'Be careful Misao,' and 'You should really limit your caffeine intake, Misao'. I think that maybe, deep down, he cares about me. Like, MORE than friends. Deep, deep, deep…down."

Misao took a sip of her frappuccino and fiddled with the end of her long braid. She was sitting on her desk chair with her back turned towards her textbooks, instead facing Kaoru on the bed. The number of empty coffee cups and energy drink cans accumulating in her trash bin suggested that cutting back on caffeine at this point might result in withdrawal symptoms for the younger woman. Kaoru smiled at the normalcy of their conversation. _To think, just last night I was at an underground fight, kissing a total stranger. Now I'm in Misao's dorm room drinking a day's worth of calories in a single cup and talking about boys._

"Well, you've known him since you were a kid. It might be hard for him to stop thinking of you that way. Just be your beautiful self and I'm sure, if he's interested, he'll come around."

Misao smiled gratefully and leaned back in her chair. "What about you, Kaoru? Have you met any guys teaching kendo, or maybe Sano has a handsome and hygienic friend you're into? What about Katsu?"

Kaoru burst into laughter at the idea of dating Katsu.

"Oh please. Katsu is nice and all, but he's more interested in the anarchist cookbook than women. I swear he lives in his own little world. Besides, if we ever got serious, I'd worry that he might blow up our house. He's got that crazy artist thing going on."

"No kendo hotties, then?" Misao asked hopefully.

"No, I don't mix business with pleasure," Kaoru said primly. "I saw someone cute at the fight last night, though."

"Oh good, a cute underground fighter dude! Please tell me he had all his teeth. And no face tattoos!"

"Ugh, Misao, what exactly do you think I find attractive anyway? He definitely had all his teeth, I would have felt it if he didn't." Kaoru realized her mistake as soon as the worst slipped out of her mouth. Misao's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she gasped.

"Kaoru! Did somebody BITE you? They must have, because I know you would never kiss someone you just met. You're the pickiest girl I know. You probably wouldn't even shake hands on the first date."

Kaoru rolled her eyes. "Chill, Misao. I might have kissed a total stranger, but it was only to escape another, much creepier stranger. I have no regrets."

"What did he look like?" Misao demanded, tossing her empty frappuccino cup over her shoulder and directly into the garbage with alarming accuracy.

"Uh, long hair. Handsome in a pretty way, his eyes reminded me of bluebells. He had a scar, but it just made him look a little dangerous, not disfigured. He's kind of small to be a fighter, but he had some definite energy going on for a while. Until I distracted him, I guess," she laughed. Misao's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"I can't believe it! Did you get his number?"

"No, I sort of bailed right after. Sano won his fight, and I was a little embarrassed about what I did, so I ran off into the crowd and we didn't stick around much longer."

Misao groaned, putting her head into her hands. "I want to live vicariously through you, and you run away from the only guy you've kissed since I met you," she complained.

Kaoru shrugged, making an obnoxious gurgling noise as she attempted to drink the dregs of her iced coffee through its straw.

"Sorry."

"Whatever. To make it up to me, you can buy me a margarita. We're going out!" Misao hopped up out of her chair and trotted over to the closet where she immediately began pawing through her clothes for a suitable outfit. Kaoru sat up and scowled.

"Can't it wait until Friday? I've barely recovered from last night, I'm dressed like a plumber, and I'm exhausted." Misao's only reply was to begin throwing clothes into Kaoru's lap, gesturing impatiently for her to try something on. Kaoru groaned as she stood up, certain that no good could come of this excursion.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The more Sano had sobered up throughout the day, the more doubt had overtaken him. He did remember the beautiful woman, and he could never forget the instant chemistry between them. However, his confidence that she would call him was wavering. He couldn't really remember if he'd made a fool of himself at any point, but he did remember spending a fair chunk of his winnings on drinks for her. What if she was just there for the free booze? What if he was just a temporary amusement?

His masculine pride was mostly restored with his sobriety, and he was no longer willing to profess love for the alluring stranger. _Megumi, she said._ However, he very much wanted another chance to test the waters. When he received a text from her in the evening inviting him out for a night cap, he was happy that Kaoru wasn't around to see his victory dance. He then spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, showering and styling his hair. They were meeting at a hole-in-the-wall bar within walking distance, and he was hoping he wouldn't make the return trip alone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They were almost at the front of the line outside The Mix, a club popular amongst undergrads at the university, when Misao got a text. She pulled out her iphone and entered the passcode before making a disgusted face and passing it to Kaoru without a word.

'Sano: Hey weasel, can you keep missy at yrs tonite? Gettin lucky w/ a fox.'

Kaoru laughed and grimaced at the same time. "I wonder if it's the woman he fell in love with while he was drunk last night?" Misao raised an eyebrow and didn't ask. They were finally ushered inside the club and made their way to the bar where Kaoru ordered a margarita for Misao and a lemon-water for herself.

"I didn't think it would be so busy on a Thursday," Kaoru shouted over the music.

"Thursday is the new Friday," Misao replied. "Besides, it's ladies night. Normally we'd be paying a cover charge."

Misao had opted to wear a deep turquoise empire dress which ended just above her knees. Sequins were embroidered in patterns of vines and leaves across the bust and with her dangling silver earrings she reminded Kaoru of a fae princess. She wore a simple oval locket around her neck and strappy heels, which brought her up from four-foot-eight to a full five feet tall, matching Kaoru. Her lips were red and her eyeliner was extravagant. She had unique fashion sense, but pulled off whatever look she was going for with confidence.

Kaoru had managed to get away with wearing her own dark jeans, which were only marginally ripped across the shins. Misao had cajoled her into a halter top of cream coloured silk which exposed her upper back and her tattoo. Her feet were a size up from Misao's, and the only shoes in the closet that fit her were a pair of simple black flats. She had allowed Misao to make her up with a subtle smoky eye, but drew the line at lipstick. She would only get it on the silk shirt somehow, and end up feeling guilty.

They stood by the bar and sipped their drinks, looking out at the crowded dance floor. Usually Misao wanted to dance, but thankfully today she seemed content to people-watch.

"See that guy there?" she stage-whispered in Kaoru's ear, pointing quickly at a tall man in a leather jacket. He was making his way slowly through the tumult, pausing frequently to talk to dancing couples.

"What about him?" Kaoru asked, noting that he didn't look like Misao's type.

"He's a drug dealer. I've noticed him here before, and at other bars too. I even saw him on campus once, but I didn't realize then what he was up to."

Kaoru frowned at the revelation. "Misao, you should be careful. Who knows what kind of connections he could have? Don't point next time, sheesh." Misao just smiled and shrugged, turning away from the dance floor to order another drink.

Kaoru set her water down in front of her friend. "I'm going to the ladies room, watch my drink okay?" Misao nodded and addressed the bartender, and Kaoru pushed her way to the back of the club and the washrooms. She managed to find a stall that had both toilet paper and a functioning lock, and didn't get water on her jeans when she leaned against the counter to wipe a fleck of mascara from underneath her eye. _All in all, a successful trip to the bathroom,_ she told herself.

She was heading back to the bar and Misao when someone grabbed her wrist. Kaoru twisted out of their grip on instinct, spinning around to see who was touching her so familiarly. It was Satomi, the persistent guy from last night, and he held up his hands in mock-surrender.

"Sorry, mystery girl! I just wanted to say hello. You here with your boyfriend again?"

"No, I'm here with a friend," she said tartly, glancing towards where Misao was chatting with the bartender.

"That's a shame. Well, pass on my regards to Battousai, will you?" he drawled sarcastically, "and tell him there are a lot of people eager to welcome him back to Tokyo." Kaoru narrowed her eyes in confusion and Satomi was gone, melting into the throng of dancers. _What the hell was that about? And what are the chances I'd run into the same creep two nights in a row?_

When she returned to the bar Misao clutched her hand and dragged her out to dance. Her confusion was soon forgotten and she found herself having a good time, once again finding a rare feeling of normality in their friendship.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Sano finally got up to use the restroom Megumi breathed a sigh of relief. _That man must have a steel bladder,_ she thought with irritation. As soon as the door shut behind him she grabbed his phone from across the table where he'd left it. She thought that he must be a rare, trusting soul to have a phone set up without a passcode required to access it. She opened his contacts and skimmed through them quickly, but didn't see any names that matched what she needed. _Looks like I'm in for the long con._

Megumi looked through his pictures and quickly sent one to herself: it was the girl he was with at the bar last night. _He kept calling her Missy, but I hope for her sake that's not her real name. _She then deleted the message from his history and set the phone back where he had left it, just in time for him to emerge from the bathroom and flash her a grin as he approached. Megumi smiled back and leaned her chin on her palm, settling in for another long night of drinking and extracting information.

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Kenshin was at a twenty-four hour, western style diner called The Silver Spoon. Contrary to the name, it was not a classy place. _Do classy diners even exist, though?_ He mused to himself, picking at his fries. He had begun searching through apartment ads at an internet café that evening, and next to his plate sat a stack of printouts he planned to investigate the next morning. He flipped through the stack and sipped his tea, ignoring the bustle of harried waitresses and inebriated college kids surrounding him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped in surprise. _Of course. I must have left it turned on when I loaded more minutes on it this afternoon._ Kenshin pulled it out and flipped it open, confused when he didn't recognize the number. There was no text, but simply a photo attached. It was a girl with long black hair holding a drink and laughing. Before he had a chance to look closely, his phone vibrated and another picture followed. The same girl again, caught in the middle of tying her hair into a high ponytail. Kenshin frowned. The girl definitely looked familiar. Another vibration, another photo: the girl from behind. He could see now that her shirt was held up by a knot behind her neck, scooping low in the back. Her raven hair was swept forward over her shoulder, baring a distinctive katana tattoo between her shoulder blades. There appeared to be kanji written on it, but his screen was too small for him to make it out.

Scrolling back through the three images, Kenshin squinted and held the phone closer to his face. _There you are!_ Her voice purred in his head. _Thanks for the kiss…_

The phone vibrated once more, this time with a message.

'Private: Keep an eye on your woman, Battousai.'

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thanks again for the reviews! I'm not going to make a habit of replying to them all individually, but this time I want to do a few  
**J Luc Pitard**: I'm happy you caught on to the OCD tendencies! I always thought that Kenshin's domestic habits had potential to be compulsions/rituals, and decided to test it out. I work in health care and majored in psych, this stuff fascinates me.  
**SnowCharms**: This chapter was probably a bit of a let-down in the sense that Kaoru and Kenshin don't see each other at all, but I'm hoping to reunite them in chapter four  
**JazzQuirk:** Thanks for the tips, I really appreciate it. I feel like I was rushing a bit in the first chapter (excitement I guess, hah) and missed some details. I'm trying to slow down and proofread myself a little better now.

Some notes: I did some googling to see how tall the characters are, and damn they are short. Misao is 4'8", Kaoru is just over 5', and Kenshin is about 5'1"! I am a 5'8" woman, and I would be a full foot taller than Misao if she was real. The more you know.  
I hope nobody minds how I'm using Megumi here. I'm sort of running with the idea from the manga/anime that she starts out involved with unsavoury people.  
If anyone is wondering why Misao wouldn't recognize Kaoru's description of Kenshin, I kept it purposely vague. Misao hasn't seen Kenshin in about four years, and doesn't know he's in Tokyo. She has no reason to remember him at the time, and just thinks Kaoru kissed some smallish, long-haired guy with a scar.

In chapter four: A LOT more Kenshin. This chapter was laying some groundwork, and very Kaoru-centric. There are people connecting them, we just have to wait and see how quickly they figure it out


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